I Am a Sinner
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: Seven individuals desperately crave Aslan's forgiveness...and Aslan willingly gives it to each and every one of them. Extended by request of readers and revised. Nominated in the Western Wood's People's Choice Awards for Best Spiritual.
1. Part 1: Edmund

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_Being the spiritual person that I am, how could I not write something like this? How could I resist the temptation? No doubt everyone in the world of Narnia needed to ask for Aslan's forgiveness at one point or another; I just thought I'd focus on five particular characters whose stories stand out from the others. Can you guess who those five characters are? If not, you'll find out soon enough. As usual, this focuses more on the actual movies rather than the books. _

_Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the books (how would we have the films in the first place without the books?); it's just the movies have more detail, more action, more thrills, and more…well, more. _

_**EDIT** I've decided to add an extra two chapters to this story, so we now have a total of seven stories. I figured it couldn't hurt, and I knew it would make my readers happy. _

_And if my readers are happy, I'm happy! _

* * *

**Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

* * *

"_If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off."_

**~ Matthew 18:12—13 (NIV)**

* * *

**PART 1: EDMUND  
**

"Come closer, my child. Do not be afraid."

Edmund hesitated, drawing in a long, shaky breath. Before him stood none other than Aslan himself, the Great Lion he had heard so much about.

The sight was more terrible and more wonderful than anything the young boy could have imagined in his wildest dreams.

The beast was large, tall, and very powerfully built, the muscles well defined beneath his sleek coat. The sea of mane that shrouded his head was of the most dazzling gold, and it looked so soft and so thick that Edmund would have readily brushed his fingers through it, were it not for his feelings of awe, fear, and shame that held him back. The beast's paws were almost as large as Edmund's own head; from each paw protruded a fine set of claws as sharp as talons. Yet the creature's demeanor was gentle, his bright amber eyes soft and empathetic, and he held himself with an air of such inexpressible majesty that it stole Edmund's heart away and left him feeling small, weak, and trivial by comparison.

"Come, now," the lion spoke to the boy again, "it's all right. I mean you no harm, Son of Adam."

The voice that emanated from his throat was deep and resonant, as clear as a golden bell, as rich as the sweetest honey. In Edmund's opinion, it might have been better if Aslan had shouted at him, or at least threatened him with a growl. The way he spoke with such unbelievable gentleness, the way he looked at him so kindly, so compassionately, so…so _lovingly_, was more than Edmund could stand. It pierced him straight to the heart, like an arrow that could not be removed.

Edmund fought vainly to gulp down the rock-solid lump that lodged deep in his throat. Somehow, he managed to edge a little closer to the Great Lion.

"Closer, my son," Aslan beckoned him, and the words were so mild you would have thought it was a lamb summoning Edmund, rather than a full-grown lion that was at least five times his size and well over ten times his strength.

Edmund shivered, though it was a warm, lithe spring morning, and shifted a fraction of an inch closer.

If there had ever been a time in his life when Edmund was more afraid, he could not remember it. He almost wished he were back in the White Witch's icy clutches. Even she and her monstrous minions could not have frightened him or daunted his heart more than this one imposing creature in front of him…the one creature whom he had defied and sinned against more than anyone else.

Far greater, far more grievous than Edmund's stark terror, was his undiluted guilt. How could Aslan ever have anything to do with him? Why would someone as pure, unspoiled, and divine as the Great Lion taint their dignity and demean themselves by associating with someone as low, sinful, and disreputable as him? After all that Edmund had said and done, how did he deserve the right to even live anymore?

More than anything else in the world at that time, the boy longed to have a mountain cover him up, or have the earth devour him, so that he would not have to stand in the presence of this noble beast.

Unable to bring himself to come any further, unable to restrain the tears any longer, Edmund closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He started bawling like a baby. Once the sobs came…oh, did they come. They rattled the boy's whole frame and tore his throat, nearly gagging him. His weak, bruised knees gave out from under him and he fell to the ground in a frail, pitiful heap. Not a word did he speak (he could never have spoken even if he desired it); he just remained in that forlorn spot, weeping as though his heart would break. Never in all his young life had such exquisite pain consumed him; Edmund was convinced he would die from it.

In a way, he wished he would. He wished he could somehow die right then and there, and be out of this world and this life (and everyone else's lives) for good.

"There, there, my son," Aslan's soothing voice poured into his ear, and Edmund felt a soft warmth envelop him, like a warm blanket shielding him from a cold winter's night. Edmund knew, without having to look up, that Aslan had come to him and was now embracing him. Aslan did not ask Edmund to cease with his weeping, but rather encouraged the boy to let it all out, to let the pain and poison flow with his tears, while all the while reassuring the child of his presence.

"I'm here," the lion kept crooning sweetly. "I'm here…"

Broken and defeated, helpless to do anything else, Edmund just huddled against the lion's warm, furry breast and cried harder than he ever remembered crying before, while Aslan slid a massive paw over his quaking shoulders with the gentleness of a feather, purring tenderly into his ear. Not one thing had to be explained; Aslan seemed to already know (and perfectly well) just what Edmund had done, what the boy stood most in need of.

When Edmund's supply of tears had finally run dry, when he managed to recover at least a bit of his shattered composure, he mustered the nerve to lift his dripping face to the Great Lion. Aslan nuzzled him and licked the salty tears from his cheek with his warm, pleasantly moist tongue. "Oh, Aslan," said Edmund inconsolably, when he could form proper words, "I'm such a traitor. I have sinned against you in the most awful way possible. Surely you must hate me!"

"I could never hate you, Edmund," Aslan replied, to the boy's disbelieving ears. "Should a father not have compassion for his hurting child? Can a brother neglect his brother when his brother so desperately needs him? What you have done was indeed most serious, dear one…but it does not mean I love you any less. It does not mean you stand absolutely no chance of ever being forgiven, of ever being restored to the fold. I love you, Edmund Pevensie. I want you to stay with me…always."

"You—you mean it, Aslan?" Edmund asked softly, feeling a glimmer of hope begin to burn within his heart, something he had never expected or dared to feel again. "Y-you want me with you?"

"Of course," said Aslan, and there was not even the slightest hint of deceit in his tone, nor his countenance. "I forgive you, my son, for all that you have done amiss, for all that you feel you are to blame for. Your sorrow for your sins surpasses the sins themselves, as does my love for you. From this time forth, your sins are taken from you, and you are free. The past is gone, and you are here, where you truly belong." As Aslan spoke these words, as his timeless gaze entangled with Edmund's, Edmund felt as though a tremendous load were being lifted from his shoulders. The boy felt somehow lighter, almost weightless…as though he could touch the sky itself, as though some unseen force were raising him up.

He could feel the emptiness within him filling with a most incredible warmth. It was like a light shining deep inside him, chasing away the darkness. Tears began to flow afresh from his eyes, but they were no longer tears of sorrow or self-punishment, and Edmund made no effort to conceal them or wipe them away. He could only smile at Aslan, the first true smile that had adorned his face in the longest time—it must have been forever—and he found the courage and the strength to move in closer.

Slowly, his thin arms reached up and encircled the lion's neck, and he clung fervently to Aslan for what seemed ages, inhaling the clean perfection of his mane.

Aslan stayed put the whole time and never pulled away. Edmund could feel Aslan's long tail curling docilely around him, and the lion's sweet breath blowing into his hair.

No longer was Edmund in awe of Aslan, or afraid of him.

Rather, the only thing the young Son of Adam felt toward the Great Lion this time was love—surely this had to be what true, honest love was—and a deep yearning to be with him, for now…and for always.


	2. Part 2: Tumnus

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_I am pleased to announce the second chapter of this story! As much fun as I have writing romance, adventure, and humor, without a doubt, I draw the most satisfaction out of writing about spiritual things. _

_The series, as we all know, have a lot of Christian parallels to them, and it's deeply gratifying to write something that focuses on the spiritual aspects of the series. _

* * *

**Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

"_Those who conceal their sins do not prosper, but those who confess and renounce them find mercy."_

**~ Proverbs 28:13 (NIV)**

* * *

**PART 2: TUMNUS**

It was the first morning following the Battle of Beruna. The evil Jadis had been defeated, and victory and peace for Narnia had been won at last.

It ought to have been a joyous time…yet it was not so for Tumnus, the young faun who once served as Jadis's subordinate, whom little Lucy Pevensie civilly addressed as "Mr. Tumnus". Despite his weariness from the intense battle they had just fought, and notwithstanding he was still considerably weak and malnourished from his long imprisonment in the Witch's ice dungeon, Tumnus could not bring himself to sleep.

So he silently stole out of camp before the sun had even risen, while everyone else remained dead to the world. He took refuge on a lonely hill well outside the camp, where no one would find him—or so he thought.

Little did the faun know that Aslan was still up and about, and Aslan spotted the faun as he made his desperate escape. Without making a sound, Aslan promptly trailed after Tumnus.

The Great Lion could clearly see that Tumnus needed him. He could see how burdened Tumnus was with the weight of his sins, and he could sense the pure sickness of the faun's soul. He knew what Tumnus was like, knew what terrible things the faun had done, yet he couldn't feel disgust or loathing for him. As he had said to Edmund once before, it was not in his nature to hate. Rather, the Lion's bowels were filled with nothing but pure compassion.

When they got to the hill, Aslan found Tumnus sitting forlornly on the cold grass at the very top, with his head bent low and his face buried in his hands. He was weeping. The faun's frail, bruised body heaved and shook with the anguished sobs that poured from him without restraint. The sight and sound of him moved Aslan to pieces, and Aslan did not hesitate to approach him. The noble animal moved so slowly, so softly over the ground, that Tumnus never heard him coming; Tumnus was too caught up in his own self-punishment to be aware of anything else, anyway. When Aslan reached the faun, he settled quietly onto his haunches beside him, curling his long tail around his front paws as he often did. Tumnus, who still had his hands over his face, did not see him and only went on sobbing, as if his heart were already broken, as if his very soul had been irretrievably lost.

Very slowly, Aslan lowered his head to the faun and nudged him ever so lightly. "Tumnus," he said, speaking in but a whisper.

When Tumnus looked up and saw Aslan, his eyes and cheeks shining diamond-bright with tears, he immediately shrank back with a sharp intake of breath. It wounded Aslan's heart to see the sheer terror in the young faun's face.

But Tumnus's fear of the Great Lion soon dissolved into crushing sorrow and guilt. In abject shame, he hid his face from Aslan again and turned away. Oh, the faun agonized, if only he could be destroyed on the spot! If only he could somehow cease to exist, just to avoid being in Aslan's presence, to be known and judged for his deeds. If only he were still a statue in the Witch's courtyard, still incarcerated in his cold stone prison.

That would be at least a thousand times better than this!

Tears once more began to flow from Tumnus's eyes, running against his palms, and the faun wept afresh. Aslan, at the same time, started to weep, too. Genuine tears spilled from those bright golden eyes like the rain, soaking the luxurious fur, and the noble voice broke as he said to Tumnus, "Oh, my son." Without another word, the Lion edged closer to the faun and wrapped a single paw around his shoulders, pulling Tumnus toward him. Tumnus made no resistance to this, but rather turned and fell against Aslan, so that Aslan surrounded him almost entirely. Tumnus didn't even know why he did what he did; it just happened, without thought or volition.

Against his bare skin, Aslan's fur was soft and warm—much softer and warmer than the faun would have expected.

As it was with Edmund, not one word had to be said. Not one thing had to be explained. Aslan knew everything, and Tumnus knew that Aslan knew everything. That only intensified the wretched faun's guilt, his sense of utter worthlessness.

How could Aslan ever forgive him? Why had the Great King even bothered to come to him in the first place?

Yet he _had_ come.

Somehow, in spite of Tumnus's sinful state, Aslan stayed with him…and never once turned him away. And he wept the whole time Tumnus wept, taking share in his grief and pain.

Together, they wept until their tears ran dry.

When, in the end, Tumnus mustered courage enough to face Aslan, he protested, "Aslan…why? Why have you come to me? Why should you care about the likes of me? You know I am a sinner. I don't deserve you!"

"All of us sin at one point or another in our lives, my dear Tumnus," Aslan told him gently.

"But, Aslan, don't you see? I _worked _for Jadis! I was one of her most trusted advocates! I betrayed innocent people to her, just to save my own life! I accepted blood money from her, and deliberately turned my back on those who were once my dear friends!" Tumnus groaned and ducked his head, his hands seizing onto what remained of his horns, so that his knuckles shone bone-white. "And I almost gave up poor Lucy to her," he continued distraughtly. "Lucy Pevensie, a sweet, innocent child who was so kind to me, who never did me any harm, who actually considered me her friend. I put her in grave danger. She could have very well been hurt because of me—she could have been killed. As if that's not enough, I defied you, betrayed you, vilified you, shamed you in just about every way possible. I am unworthy of you, Aslan. I don't deserve to be here with you, don't deserve the right to even be here at all. I want to run away and hide. I want to die!"

"You _were_ dead, Tumnus," said Aslan, speaking all the more kindly. Laying his paw on the faun's curly head, he continued, "But now you are alive again. You were lost…and now you are found."

Tumnus could hardly believe what was happening to him, what Aslan was doing.

He trembled under the weight of Aslan's paw, yet it was not in a bad way. Rather, the Lion's paw almost felt like a crown on his head: a crown of true glory.

"My son, I know your heart. I know how heavy it is. I know what you have been through all these years, and I know what you stand in need of. We cannot change what is past…yet if you so desire, you may receive forgiveness for your sins and be free."

"M-may I, Aslan?" Tumnus dared to ask in a shaking voice. "I-is it truly possible?"

Aslan lowered his paw from the faun's head, but stared all the more intently into Tumnus's face. "Do you repent of your sins, Tumnus?" he inquired. "Do you wish to be forgiven?"

"Yes." Fresh tears leaked from Tumnus's eyes, and he began to weep softly again. "More than anything in the world, Aslan. I would do anything, give anything, to be clean and pure again."

He bowed himself at Aslan's feet, touching his forehead abjectly to the Lion's forepaws. "Please, Aslan," he tearfully implored, face down, "have mercy on me. Forgive me…I beg of you."

He felt one of Aslan's paws on the bare skin of his back, and Aslan's voice answered him, "You are forgiven, Tumnus. The offering is acceptable to me, and I am satisfied."

Hearing those blessed words, Tumnus felt his bones melt, and any strength he had left in his body vanished in an instant. Lying on his face before Aslan, all the humbled faun could do was weep. Gratitude and love such as he had never felt, or would have believed possible, flooded his entire being, washing away his guilt and self-hate. His tears wet Aslan's feet in no time, but Aslan did not seem to mind in the slightest.

"Rise up, my son," Aslan gently beckoned Tumnus when the faun was finally through and had lifted his head once more.

"I…I don't think I have the strength, Aslan," said Tumnus weakly.

Aslan leaned in and put his nose close to the faun's ear. "Then lean on me," the Lion whispered, "and I shall be your strength."

Their eyes met for a long moment. Then, slowly and tentatively, Tumnus reached up and grasped the beast's mane, twining his hands in the thick golden locks. Aslan did not flinch.

Moving inch by inch, Tumnus struggled to heave himself up. His legs were shaking so horribly that he feared they would not hold him. Twice, they quit altogether, and Tumnus ended up sinking back to the ground.

"I can't!" the faun despaired when he had fallen for the second time. "I can't do it, Aslan!"

"Yes, you can," Aslan encouraged him. "Lean on me, Tumnus. Put your whole weight on me, and trust me. Move slowly and carefully…and do not be afraid."

Blinking back the new tears that had welled up, Tumnus drew in a long, ragged breath and tried again. Aslan remained perfectly still the whole time, as firm as a rock.

Tumnus could actually feel a surge of warmth rushing from the Lion into his own body. The warmth spread all through him, filling him to the brim, giving him the strength he lacked. With Aslan as his foundation, Tumnus slowly but surely managed to get all the way to his feet. To the faun's amazement, even his violent quaking and quivering subsided, and he somehow found the strength to release Aslan altogether and stand on his own two hooves.

Aslan smiled up at the faun, never saying a word, but his eyes did all the talking. Tumnus smiled back as his tears spilled freely down his face, his own eyes exuding wordless thanks. The faun reached out for the Lion again, this time laying his palms gently on either side of Aslan's face. He meekly bowed his forehead against Aslan's, and Aslan continued to be still as Tumnus kissed his noble face tenderly, as proof of his gratitude and eternal love.


	3. Part 3: Peter

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_Presenting the third chapter! It's been a bit of an emotionally disturbing week for me, so it really, really helped to write something like this. _

_This one focuses on Peter, as some of my readers have asked, and it takes place in "Prince Caspian". This is my first attempt at something that occurs outside of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe". As much as I love and adore the first movie, I have to admit the second one's pretty awesome, too. I remember the first time I watched it (I never got the chance to see it in theaters, but my sister and my brother-in-law were nice enough to share the DVD with me), I was glued to the spot the whole time. Nothing could tear me away from the TV. Whenever someone spoke to me, I'd be all, "Er, yeah…whatever." Then, later (just the other day, in fact), when I got the chance, I purchased a DVD of my very own. _

_I'm surprised at some of the negativity that's aimed at Peter in the second movie. If you're one of those haters, then clearly you don't understand Peter as well as you think you do. I'll admit, I myself wasn't too crazy about his attitude in the beginning. But when you really think about it, would you have acted any differently if you were in his shoes? All of us slip up at one point or another. Nobody is perfect. And pride has a way of bringing even the most honorable people down. _

_Hopefully, this little snippet will help you see Peter in a somewhat better light. _

* * *

**Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

"_Then from heaven, your dwelling place, hear their prayer and their pleas, and uphold their cause. And forgive your people, who have sinned against you."_

**~ 2 Chronicles 6:39 (NIV)**

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**PART 3: PETER  
**

A deathly, tomblike silence filled the empty cavern of the How—empty except for Peter, the broken slabs of what used to be the Stone Table, the shattered bits of ice that littered the floor like crushed glass, and the imposing image of the Great Lion cut into the stone wall, which lay only a yard or so ahead of Peter. Like a statue, a lifeless chassis molded from stone or ice, Peter could only stand where he was, unable to move or speak. His entire body seemed to have seized up; his tongue remained a useless blob in his mouth. But though the young former king could not move physically, his mind and heart were a raging torrent, a relentless flood of sick emotions and bitter memories.

Here, alone in this cold, forlorn place, everything Peter had ever done and said came rushing back to him all at once, like water surging through a break in a dam. In sharp, lurid detail, he could see all of his sins, every mistake and wrongdoing he had committed, including those from just a few minutes ago. In his mind's eye, he could see Jadis's ghostly face, beautiful yet deadly. His ears could still hear her voice, which was like honey and poison.

He sickened to think about how alarmingly close he'd come to reviving her, to restoring Narnia's oldest and deadliest foe to living flesh, to bringing doom upon them all. He should have known better than to assume that it just might be worth it to unleash one evil in order to triumph over another evil. Had these past years as king, these years of fighting and chasing off evil, counted for nothing? Had he not learned _anything_ from such experiences?

He knew full well what Jadis had been like in her previous life, the horrific things she was capable of.

Yet he was just about ready to set her free—one drop of Adam's blood, she had said; that was all that was required to complete her reincarnation. Peter went to her, lured by her hypnotic eyes, drunk upon the nectar of her sweet, venomous voice.

He had stretched forth his blood-covered hand to hers…and who knew what would have happened next, had Edmund not been gallant enough and smart enough to step in and shatter the wall of ice that encased Jadis's spirit? With a piercing scream that made the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand on end and chilled his blood, Jadis was destroyed in an instant. As irony would have it, her destruction was brought about by the one boy who had once sided with her.

Peter recalled staring into Edmund's grave face, shaken by Jadis's charm over him and the awareness of what he'd very nearly done; and all Edmund said to his brother was, "I know. You had it sorted."

Though he'd spoken the words quietly, with little emotion, they ran through Peter's heart like a white-hot sword.

Now Peter stood alone, facing the figure in the fire-illumined wall ahead that seemed to stare right back at him. Notwithstanding it was a simple sculpture, the carefully crafted eyes seemed to ask Peter: "_What have you done?_"

That was the same question that swirled continually through Peter's head, weighing more and more heavily on his heart.

_What have I done?_

As if almost setting Jadis free from her otherworldly prison was not terrible enough, Peter had just led a whole band of Narnians, innocent people whose sole purpose was to defend what they believed in and reclaim what was rightfully theirs, to their destruction. He brought his loyal subjects into a battle that he believed could be won easily. But the odds proved to be against them; though many of the Narnians escaped with their lives, many others were left behind to perish.

Peter would never forget the urgent and desperate cries of his men, mingled with the grossly triumphant howls of their enemies. Now half of Peter's army was lost, and their blood was solely on the boy's hands.

Above all else, Peter had willfully denied Aslan, his lord and redeemer, the one true King of Narnia.

All this time, up until now, he never gave the Great Lion so much as a second thought. When Lucy told them all earlier that she'd just seen the Lion himself with her own eyes, Peter had all but brushed his poor sister off. Even when he was about to lead his troops on that fateful foray, when Lucy had pleaded with him to wait until Aslan came to help them, for without Aslan they were surely done for, Peter replied coolly, "I think we've waited for Aslan long enough."

Now, too late, Peter understood that he was nothing without Aslan…literally nothing.

Shame and guilt such as he had never felt or would have believed possible flooded him, spreading through every part of his body like acid. What had happened to him? Somehow, he'd allowed himself to be swallowed up in his own pride.

All this time, he had been thinking of no one but himself. If only he hadn't been so headstrong, so obstinate—if he had only _listened_—then things might not have gotten this far and he wouldn't be in this mess.

But that was just the trouble with him.

For a time, Peter used to believe Aslan had deserted him, but now he saw that he was the one who'd deserted Aslan.

Without even realizing it, hot tears began to slip down Peter's cheeks, cutting through the grime that encrusted his face, falling all the way to the stone floor at his boots.

High King Peter, the Magnificent—that was a laugh!

He was no king. He was not even a human being. Even worms and slugs and other detestable parasites were above him. How could he have been so blind, so pathetically dimwitted as to turn his back on Aslan, to not believe even his own sister's witness? If Lucy could not see Aslan, who could? How could Peter have ever believed, even for one minute, that he could somehow make it through his own strength, the cleverness of his own brain?

Yet the damage was already done, and now others had to suffer the consequences of Peter's stupidity and irresponsibility.

The spell of paralysis broke, and Peter fell to his knees on the spot, barely noticing the painful impact of the stone. His tears began falling thicker and faster. His whole body was shaking, like a leaf caught in the heart of a storm.

Finally, in the sheer agony of his soul, the young king wailed to the heavens, "Oh, Aslan, where _are _you?"

Then something within him broke, and he plunged his tormented face into his hands and burst into an agony of tears.

* * *

Not very long after that, Peter found himself kneeling at the feet of none other than Aslan himself. The Lion was as majestic and magnificent as Peter remembered him, and he looked down at Peter with such unbelievable kindness.

Yet Peter knew he was disappointed as well.

Peter knew of Aslan's mercy, his willingness to forgive…but was it too late for him? He had been deliberately rebellious. He had been Aslan's own disciple. He knew, he followed, he believed, and he still sinned against the Lion.

So many emotions were churning inside Peter at the same time; he was torn so many ways, he was almost delirious. He wanted to weep, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run away like a coward and hide. He wanted to have the mountains fall upon him. He wanted to drown himself in the depths of the Emerald River that flowed just behind him. He wanted to embrace Aslan, to kiss him and say a thousand things to him.

But all he could bring himself to say was a very faint, tremulous, grief-stricken, "Aslan."

Then, unable to bear it any longer, Peter buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly.

Aslan remained still and listened to Peter's agonized sobs for a time, before he finally moved closer to him and wrapped his paw around the boy. "There, there, my son," he said, in the rich, golden voice that Peter had come to know so well.

There was not a hint of anger or aversion in the King's tone, only gentleness—and a bit of sadness.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered brokenly, with his face still hidden. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me, Aslan."

Over and over, he kept pleading, "Forgive me…forgive me."

"Peace, my son," Aslan spoke at length, cutting Peter off. "Be still. All is forgiven. I accept your repentance, and I welcome you home."

Hearing this, Peter slowly lifted his dripping face, struggling to see Aslan through the tangled blonde locks that spilled over his sky-blue eyes and the thick tears that obscured his sight.

"H-how can you, Aslan?" he barely managed to choke out. "H-how can you still love me? After all that I've done, how can you still have anything to do with me?"

"Because you are mine," said Aslan, moving his paw around to touch Peter's wet, feverish cheek. "Because you are my child, my brother…my very dearest friend. And I do love you, truly."

"I have betrayed you, Aslan," said Peter weakly, feeling his eyes well up afresh. "I have sinned against you."

"Yes, you have," Aslan concurred. "But the cup has been drunk. The price has been paid. You have strayed in darkness, but you have found the light again."

He leaned down and tenderly kissed Peter's tears. "Now, be at peace," he whispered sweetly into the boy's ear, "and sin no more. Always remember that I am here for you, dear one, if you but have the faith to seek me out."

Peace began to glisten in Peter's eyes.

The tears that continued to slide down his cheeks were no longer tears of grief nor penitence, but tears of pure joy and pure love.

"Oh, Aslan," he wept, and he practically collapsed forward, Aslan's solid, powerful chest saving him from ending up flat on the ground.

Hugging the Lion fiercely round the neck, Peter closed his eyes and immersed his face fully in the warm, wonderful sea of gold, crying his savior's name again and again in thankful sobs.


	4. Part 4: Trumpkin

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_This next chapter was surprisingly easier to write than I'd previously assumed. We're now about halfway through with the story, a little more than half. This one also takes place in "Prince Caspian", and it takes place after the ultimate battle at the river, just after Peter earns Aslan's forgiveness. _

_I admired Trumpkin's first encounter with Aslan in the original movie, but I felt it could be extended just a bit. So, this is the way I would have shown it. _

_For the record, this little snippet was also partly inspired by the story "No Longer a Son of Earth", by Lady Redemption. _

**

* * *

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

"_You are forgiving and good, O Lord, abounding in love to all who call to you."_

**~ Psalms 86:5 (NIV)**

**

* * *

Part 4: Trumpkin**

Trumpkin felt his knees weaken and his heart pale as he regarded the glorious animal before him. The lion who stood alongside the Emerald River, with young Queen Lucy at his side, was not just any common lion. Trumpkin knew him to be Aslan, the Son of the Emperor, the guardian and the one true king of Narnia, the Great Golden Lion he had heard so much about.

Trumpkin blinked several times, but the image did not fade from his eyes. Aslan was indeed real—as real as he was, just as Lucy had said. An odd mixture of wonder, fear, trepidation, and downright shame flooded the dwarf, and he dropped unconsciously to his knees on the rough ground, his scrawny legs no longer able to bear him up. He could never bring himself to tear his eyes away from Aslan, even though it frightened him to death just to look at him, and the sight of the noble creature reminded Trumpkin painfully of how he had doubted him.

Years of isolation and persecution from the Telmarines had hardened Trumpkin into a cold, distant, unresponsive, distrustful cynic. He had learned to not trust anyone, that it was every creature for himself. When he had first met Queen Lucy and her siblings, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and King Peter, he had taken a great disliking to them at first, especially Peter—even though Peter had risked his life for Trumpkin when two Telmarines attempted to kill the dwarf by drowning him. They surely would have succeeded, had Peter not bravely plunged in after him.

Even after Trumpkin was safely on dry ground, and he was cut free and breathing normally again, he didn't bother to say thank you.

In time, however, Trumpkin slowly found himself softening towards the royal foursome. He developed an especial soft spot for Lucy, though he would never have admitted it to anybody.

But when Lucy told them she had seen Aslan, with her very own eyes, no one believed her, except Edmund.

Susan and Peter assumed their little sister was just seeing things, or that it was a plain, ordinary lion wandering aimlessly about the woods. Trumpkin, on the other hand, thought Lucy was downright crazy for believing in what he considered nothing more than a mere fairy tale, a childish fantasy. Even if Aslan were real, why should he care about them?

If he truly cared, he would have done something to show it a long time ago—like striking down their oppressors, for instance.

Trumpkin was not one to believe in something anyhow, unless he could see it with his own eyes, and touch it with his own hands. He had never been one to rely on pure, simple faith.

Unless he saw this Aslan for himself, he could not believe. He simply couldn't.

Now that he saw and knew for himself that Aslan truly lived, Trumpkin was ashamed of the way he had acted. He felt an immeasurable sense of hot guilt for refusing to believe Lucy, for ever harboring the notion that the girl was out of her mind. Above all else, the dwarf repented of ever questioning Aslan's existence to begin with.

He knew he had been nothing less of a sheer fool.

What must Aslan think of him? Trumpkin had a very unpleasant feeling that the Great Lion must have some knowledge of just how guilty he was, how sinful.

The dwarf certainly knew he had never lived the most ideal lifestyle. He had made so many mistakes, committed so many sins, he couldn't even begin to number them.

Tears started to spill from Trumpkin's eyes, leaking steadily down into his grubby beard, and he bent his head and covered his face with his hands. Though his thin shoulders heaved and shook quite noticeably, he hardly made a sound. Oh, what had he done? What had he _done?_ Could Aslan ever forgive him? Would he even want to? Trumpkin knew he didn't deserve Aslan, and he knew Aslan deserved someone far better than a puny, pathetic dwarf like him. Nevertheless, to be cut off altogether from the Lion was far more than Trumpkin could bear.

If Aslan didn't forgive him, then surely all was lost, and he would die on the spot, for he would have nothing left to live for.

But as Trumpkin knelt there and quietly wept into his palms, all pride and dignity scattered on the floor, he felt a soft warmth enfold him, and he felt something nudge him gently.

He dared to look up. Even though tears clouded his vision, he could see Aslan's handsome, majestic face gazing down at him.

Trumpkin shrank back somewhat from the beast, drawing in his breath sharply, but he remained where he was. Aslan also stayed put, his long, sleek tail curled passively around his giant forepaws. His gentle yet intense golden eyes seemed to stare into the core of Trumpkin's soul. "Aslan," was all Trumpkin could say, the name emerging as little more than a croak.

The Great Lion tipped his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. "Trumpkin," he said, in a voice that was deep, strong, and authoritative, yet kind and compassionate.

It warmed Trumpkin and wounded him at the same time. It made his heart feel strangely light, and yet strangely heavy.

Knowing what he needed to say, yet unsure of where to begin, Trumpkin faltered and stumbled over his tongue for a brief time before saying repentantly, "Aslan, please…I…I know I have done wrong. I have done and said many things in my life that I am not proud of. I know I am not worthy of you." He buried his face in his hands once more, not bothering to fight the fresh flow of tears as they came. "I am lower than a slave, less than the earth itself. My life is forfeit. I have doubted you, my lord. I have refused to believe in you. I have sinned against you…and I…"

"My son," Aslan gently cut in, and Trumpkin's heart nearly failed him upon being spoken to this way. "You are not the first to have questioned my existence. And you will most certainly not be the last." Aslan rested his mighty head against the dwarf's shoulder, breathing lightly on him. "I know your heart," Trumpkin heard his soothing voice pour into his ear. "I can see how burdened you are, dear one, how heavy a load you have struggled to carry all these years by yourself."

In humble submission, Trumpkin hid his face in Aslan's mane, which felt sweetly warm to the touch, and softer than any silk or satin.

"Be merciful to me, Aslan," he implored. "Forgive my many sins. You know how black they are."

"Your sins are forgiven," Aslan answered promptly. "Because of your grief for them—because you have a sincere desire to repent, and change your ways."

With his thin body pressed up against Aslan's broad chest, Trumpkin could hear, even feel a steady rumble that came from somewhere deep within the Lion. It was a moment before he realized the Lion was purring. He felt one of Aslan's giant paws against his back. "And, because I can feel your sorrows, my brother," Aslan continued, "and I can taste your pain."

When Aslan drew back sometime later, and Trumpkin was facing the Lion directly again, the dwarf looked up with eyes that still swam in tears, and said in a husky voice, "My lord, nothing is hidden from you. It is like you can literally look right through me, and see all the evil that is in me."

"All the evil, yes," said Aslan softly. He added even more gently, "And all the good, too."

At a loss for words, Trumpkin could only remain on his knees, his legs unable to hold him even if he so desired, tears still oozing steadily down his dirty face.

He could feel something stirring inside his breast; it burned like a fire in the deepest, furthermost recesses of his soul.

Suddenly the dwarf didn't care anymore whether everything made perfect sense, or about what the rest of the world thought of him. All he wanted was to be accepted by Aslan—and it took but one look into those fathomless yellow eyes staring back at him to know, without an inkling of doubt, that the Great Lion truly accepted him, and loved him.

"Stay with me, Trumpkin, my son," Aslan said, and the tenderness in his voice and countenance seemed to melt Trumpkin's very bones. He lowered his face to the humble dwarf's one more time and brushed his nose lovingly against Trumpkin's rough cheek, so that Trumpkin felt the pleasant tickle of his whiskers. The Lion's breath smelled sweeter than any springtime. "Stay with me," Aslan whispered again, "follow me, and you will not be disappointed, or left unsatisfied. Those who come to me with blind eyes and a broken heart shall see, and be made whole."


	5. Part 5: Eustace

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_I was asked (or begged, rather) to do a chapter for Eustace Scrubb in this story. I decided for a story like this one, it would be most ideal to write about the part where Aslan restores the boy from his dragon shape in "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader". (Looking forward to the release of that movie!) This was a little trickier to write than the previous chapters, since Eustace is not my most favorite character—not to say that I despise him; I just don't care for him like I do for Tumnus and the others. And I'm not nearly as familiar with "VDT" as I am with the rest of the Narnia series. _

_So, I had a bit of homework to do! _

**

* * *

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

"_The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove his people's disgrace from all the earth."_

**~ Isaiah 25:8 (NIV)  
**

**

* * *

Part 5: Eustace**

If there ever existed a time in Eustace Scrubb's life when he had felt more miserable, or more afraid, or loathed himself more, he could not recall it. The young boy, cousin to Edmund and Lucy Pevensie, and the bane of every other person's existence, had just spent the worst five days of his life (or, rather, five and a half) as a hideous, monstrous green dragon—complete with scales, enormous wings like those of an overgrown bat, a pair of authentic horns, a colossal tail, and cruel claws that could easily tear flesh off bone.

As if this weren't humiliating and disheartening enough, he had brought this curse upon himself.

If only he hadn't chanced upon that cave, the cave that was the home to a recently slain dragon, where an entire hoard of glorious treasures beyond the imagination was kept.

Being the greedy pig that he was, Eustace did not hesitate to load up his pockets with the dead dragon's sacred loot. Later, exhaustion and the lateness of the hour caught up with the boy, and he'd spent the night on a bed of gold and silver and jewels and precious trinkets, feeling richer than the richest king in Narnia.

Yet imagine the poor, foolish child's surprise, his utmost horror and disgust, when he awoke to discover that he had become a dragon himself! The gold armband that fit nicely on him when he was a human boy now cut agonizingly into his thick dragon flesh, and Eustace found he was a living furnace: he could breathe out genuine fire and smoke, just like a real dragon.

Devastated and despairing, at a complete loss of how he was to break this awful curse, Eustace had used his new wings to fly back to his cousins, as well as the rest of the group whom he had mindlessly deserted earlier. But he could not ask for their assistance; for that matter, he could not speak to them at all, as he was a dragon and could therefore only converse in the tongue of the dragons: a low, deep, guttural language that sounded like nothing more than mere rumbling and grumbling to the ears of other creatures. Though everyone was genuinely sympathetic for him—including Reepicheep, the little warrior mouse Eustace had taunted and abused by swinging him about by his tail—there was nothing they could do to help him.

None of them were wizards, or had any knowledge in the field of magic. It would take a miracle to restore Eustace to his original shape.

For five and a half days—days that seemed more like years, or even eternities—Eustace remained like this. While he was a dragon, he had plenty of time to think things over.

He now saw himself for what he truly was, for what others viewed him as: a mean, miserable, gruesome little beast.

As if mistreating Reepicheep, and stealing what did not belong to him, was not already horrid enough, Eustace had done many other terrible things that landed him in trouble.

He recalled how he often picked on other kids at his school in his own world, even little kids who hadn't done anything whatsoever to offend him, just to make himself seem more imposing. He always did the exact opposite of what he was told to do. He often cut school, and persuaded other children to do the same. When he came here to Narnia with Edmund and Lucy, he had always maintained a smart mouth, talking back to those who had more power and authority over him; he even once framed Lucy, making it appear like she was taking more than her fair share of food and water while they were aboard the vessel they called _The Dawn Treader_—when in truth, Eustace was the one taking more than his rightful share.

Luckily for Lucy, Edmund stood by her and she was eventually cleared of blame, and Eustace had been furious when he ended up being the one punished.

Now, in the form of a fire-breathing beast, a monster cut off from the whole human race, Eustace began to sorely regret all that he had done.

He vowed to do anything to set things right.

If only there were some way to reverse the spell, to become a boy again—he couldn't stand being cooped up in this dreadful dragon hide forever.

Then, as fate would have it, Eustace ended up meeting Aslan, the Great Golden Lion that Edmund and Lucy never seemed to stop talking about. Just the name alone lulled their whole traveling group into a reverent silence. Eustace didn't see what was so great and mighty about this Aslan—but now that he stood before Aslan himself, in the living flesh, the boy now understood.

Aslan had come to Eustace, and led the dragon-child to the top of a mountain, where there grew a lush garden full of grass and trees, ripe with fruit and everything anyone could dream of.

In the middle of the garden was a deep well, with cool, clean water bubbling up from the bottom. It was like an enormous circular bath, with marble steps leading down into it. The water itself was as clear as the purest crystal. And Aslan—Eustace had no idea how he did it—somehow managed to remove the dragon skin from Eustace's flesh, and he made Eustace bathe in the brisk waters a number of times. When Eustace finally emerged from those waters, he was a boy once again.

Now, as a human, Eustace cowered in awe and trepidation before the noble Lion who had saved him.

He was grateful that he was no longer that ghastly dragon, indeed and truly he was, but now what was going to happen to him?

What would Aslan do with him this time? Eustace remembered reading in books that lions could easily rip a fully grown man into pieces—and he was no man, and Aslan was no common lion.

Far much worse than the notion of getting himself torn apart, of becoming a slick full-course meal, there was something about the way Aslan looked at Eustace that made the boy want to cover his face, or run away and hide himself, even though his whole body seemed to have frozen. Those intense yellow eyes seemed to glow with an inner light. An unseen power seemed to emanate from the gallant creature. Aslan seemed able to look right through Eustace, and know everything that he had done; not just in the past few days, but throughout his entire life.

This made Eustace more than a little embarrassed, more than slightly uncomfortable. It was like standing naked, only worse than naked.

At some point, Eustace managed to avert his own shallow eyes from the Great Lion's amaranthine ones, but he found he couldn't bring himself to walk away, or turn to the side, or move so much as a muscle. It was like something kept him rooted to the spot, and he could not fight it.

"Child," he heard Aslan address him, in a voice that for some reason made him think of fresh, golden honey spread on wafers, "why do you not look at me? Am I truly that repulsive to you?"

"N-no," Eustace stammered out, his own voice sounding puerile and pathetic in comparison.

"Why are you afraid of me, child?"

"I-I'm not afraid!" insisted Eustace, trying vainly to sound braver than he actually felt.

Aslan, of course, was never fooled by the boy's false bravado for half a minute. "I can clearly see that you are afraid, my son…far more afraid than you realize," he said quietly.

Eustace was incredulous to hear him now refer to him as "my son".

Just what did Aslan mean by _that?_ He was not Eustace's father. They didn't even come from the same species!

"Well…how do you expect me to feel?" the boy blurted out, the words emerging louder and harsher than intended. "You're a lion, and lions _eat _people, and all sorts of things!"

Aslan, rather than getting cross with the boy, as most people did when he used that tone of voice, said as placidly as ever, "What makes you think it was my intention to eat you?"

"What reason w-_wouldn't_ you have?" said Eustace, and there was an audible crack in his voice, as he felt his eyes well up. Without even realizing it, hot tears began slipping down his cheeks, one after another. "A-after everything I did, after all the t-trouble I caused, considering the b-big, fat prat that I am, w-what reason would you not have to h-hate me, Aslan?"

Now the tears were falling thicker and faster than ever. Though Eustace fought with all his might to keep them back, though he brushed furiously at his face with his wrist, that only resulted in new tears retracing the salty trails left behind by the old ones.

"Hate you?" Aslan spoke the words as if they hurt him. "How could I possibly hate you?"

All at once, the barrier broke. "I can never do anything right!" Eustace burst out. "Everybody hates me! My parents hate me, my teachers hate me, all the kids at my school hate me; even my own cousins hate me! No one gives a care about what happens to me, or wants anything to do with me!" He faltered. "And…and why wouldn't they?" he said weakly. "It's…it's not like I did anything to deserve them, or gave them any reason to like me. I was always such a brat…always getting myself into trouble, and inventing lies to get myself out of that trouble."

Eustace didn't know why he was telling Aslan all of this; it just spilled out of him, like water. Somehow, Aslan got him to talk without threatening him, or even touching him.

That grave, intense look in those brilliant gold eyes alone was sufficient to loosen the boy's tongue.

And as Eustace revealed the truth to the Great Lion, something inside of him melted. His whole composure turned to soup, and he started crying like a baby.

His hands flew up to cover his face as he sobbed. His scrawny legs gave out from under him, causing him to plummet to his knees.

"Child…child," Aslan said in a hushed voice, swiftly moving closer to the weeping boy.

Eustace did not look up, but only cried harder. He recalled how he was forever boasting to everyone that he never cried, that crying was purely for "sissies"—but here, in this spot, he just couldn't help himself. As he sobbed his heart out on the ground, Aslan wrapped a paw around his small frame and brought the lad closer to his own body, as if to shelter Eustace from a storm.

In a way, there was indeed a storm going on, and quite a raging one at that.

How long Eustace remained on his knees, exactly how long he bawled, he hadn't the faintest idea. But Aslan stayed with him the whole time, keeping him close. When Eustace was finally able to calm down and breathe more easily, and he found the courage to look up again, Aslan didn't show any sign of annoyance or disgust, but rather nuzzled Eustace's tear-soaked face, and gently licked his cheek. "I'm sorry, Aslan," said Eustace when he had regained his voice. This was the first time he had ever uttered such words, voluntarily. "I—I really am sorry."

And Aslan seemed to know perfectly well just what Eustace was sorry for.

"There, there, dear one," he soothed, "it's all right. Everything is going to be all right."

Eustace hesitated a moment, drawing in a long, rattling gasp. "C-can you—" He swallowed hard. "Can you ever forgive me, Aslan? For—for everything? Can you forgive me?"

"I already forgave you, my son, before you even asked," Aslan assured him benevolently.

He brushed his nose briefly against Eustace's forehead, and Eustace was amazed at how much better he felt now. It was like something poisonous had been purged from him.

For the first time since he first arrived in Narnia with his cousins, for the first time in a long time, Eustace Scrubb felt at peace. All of his feelings of anger and resentment, along with his feelings of fear and despair, were gone, as though washed away with his tears. He felt calm, like there was nothing in the world he needed to fear.

He could only smile at Aslan, and hug the Lion gratefully round the neck. Aslan remained still and allowed himself to be hugged, and Eustace even found the nerve to kiss his nose.

Then Eustace managed to bring himself to say the words that had always been the most difficult for him to say: "I—I love you, Aslan."

From the moment those words passed his lips, he knew them from the bottom of his heart to be true.

"And I love you," Aslan replied, even though there was no need to say so. Eustace already knew.


	6. Part 6: Puzzle

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_Man, I can't believe I'm almost done with this! Only one chapter to go! I'm amazed at the response to this story. Practically everyone has been telling me that my story makes them cry, and yet makes them feel so good! I am gratified and humbled by the praise that has been showered on me since I first began this thing. If I do this well with fan fiction, I wonder how I'll fare as a __real__ author, when the time comes. Anyhow, this chapter here takes place in "The Last Battle", the very end of the series. The story of Puzzle, as I view it, is the story of ultimate forgiveness. _

_Puzzle committed the very worst sin any creature could have committed, and yet we see how Aslan accepted him at the end, and allowed him entrance into the New Narnia. _

_I decided to illustrate that, in my own panache—that's another fancy word for style, in case you didn't know. _

_By the way, I very recently bought my very own copy of "TLB", for keeps! I intend to collect the entire Narnia series, both books and movies. So far, I've got both DVDs (and more than one version of the first DVD!), and book-wise, I have "TLB" and "LWW". Two adventures down, only five more to go! And if they end up making all the books into movies, that'll make a total of ten items for me to add to my collection, sixteen including the original soundtracks, and that's only at bare minimum. And to think that math's always been my worst subject in school…_

**

* * *

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

* * *

"_Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool."_

**~ Isaiah 1:18 (NIV)**

**

* * *

Part 6: Puzzle**

To disguise oneself as another, just for the mere sport of it, was one thing. But to impersonate a being, particularly a divine being, and to lead others astray, into darkness and sin…that was quite another matter. And Puzzle the Donkey knew he'd committed the ultimate sin, by pretending to be the Great Lion Aslan, by fooling many people into believing he really _was_ the Lion.

Not that this was all the foolish donkey's idea, and not that this was done purely of the poor beast's own free will. In the first place, it was Shift's idea to dress him up like this. Puzzle wanted no part of the masquerade, whatsoever. But that was Puzzle's biggest weakness—he was easily bullied, and extremely gullible; therefore, he was easily tricked into doing the bidding of others bigger, stronger, and more clever than him, even when he knew full well what he was doing was wrong. Shift was his friend, or so Puzzle thought, and Puzzle felt he was lucky enough to have someone who ever wanted to be his friend at all. So Puzzle yielded to Shift's incentives, and braved the deadly waters of the Caldron Pool to retrieve the lion skin for the old ape. Later, though the little donkey continued to protest against it every now and again, he allowed himself to be arrayed within the skin.

Oh, that he had never done it, that they had never even stumbled across that wretched pelt to begin with!

Had Puzzle known beforehand the consequences that would follow, the great damage this deception would bring about…

At first, this little dress-up seemed harmless enough; the hide kept Puzzle warmer than his shabby gray coat ever did, even if it was unmercifully itchy. And Shift told him he looked just like Aslan, which Puzzle decided to take as the highest compliment—as Aslan was the most revered individual in Narnia.

But Shift, that old scoundrel, ultimately took advantage of Puzzle's trust and naïveté to gain control over Narnia, and later convey that power upon the wicked Calormenes.

In the end, Puzzle finally came to his senses, and saw Shift for the sick, perverted villain that he truly was, and deserted him forever.

But by that time, the damage was already done, and the damage was beyond anyone's ability to repair. Had it not been for the saving grace of that sweet Jill Pole, who hailed from the world beyond the boundaries of Narnia, and of that noble young King Tirian, Puzzle surely would have died. The little donkey would have willingly killed himself, for his part in this treachery.

Now, here Puzzle stood, on the other side, in Aslan's Country, the Real Narnia, where all was bright and glorious, where neither sickness nor hunger, nor even death itself could abide. Everything and everyone in this holy place were restored to their proper frame, and here they would dwell forever, in eternal light and unbounded happiness.

Yet Puzzle knew he didn't deserve to be in a place like this. The ill-fated creature felt small, ugly, and trivial amidst such beauty and inviolability.

He could see Aslan, the one true Aslan, whose glory, majesty, and sheer perfection defied all worldly description, just a short distance ahead of him.

He knew his time of judgment was at hand.

If he was to be punished here and now for his sins—and he was more than sure that he would—he was ready.

"Puzzle." Though Puzzle had never spoken, or made so much as a sound, Aslan knew full well of the donkey's presence. The Lion's tone, while it was neither loud nor harsh, not even remotely angry, clearly stated: _"Come here. I wish to speak to you privately._" Puzzle hesitated for just a moment, a small part of him yearning to turn around on the spot and flee.

But the donkey knew that to run from Aslan would be a cowardly thing to do, and he was through with being a coward.

It was his cowardice, his spinelessness, that had landed him in all this trouble, after all. It was high time he faced the music.

There was no need, and it would do no good, to even try to hide anything from Aslan. So Puzzle, aware of the fact that he was literally walking to his doom, obediently approached the Great Lion; though he walked very slowly, and he kept his head and his tail, and his gaze, fixed downward the whole time. When he reached Aslan, he stopped and stood very still.

With his head still bowed, he said meekly, "I am here, my lord Aslan."

For a time, Aslan said nothing.

Puzzle would rather that the Lion started lambasting him right away, or roaring in his face, or even attacking him outright with those mighty claws and those terrible teeth. The uncanny silence was unbearable. When Puzzle briefly lifted his eyes to Aslan's face, he saw the Lion had his eyes closed and his own head bowed slightly, as though immersed in thought himself.

Finally, Aslan spoke. "Puzzle," he said, speaking quietly yet very seriously, "I am most disappointed in you. What you have done is considered abominable above all other things."

Puzzle's long, slim ears drooped, knowing full well what Aslan was saying was nothing short of the truth.

He bent his head even further, so that his nose nearly brushed his hooves.

"You should have known better," Aslan continued. "You have allowed yourself to be beguiled by the cunning of sinful creatures, and you have deceived my people."

Puzzle closed his eyes, wishing with all of his breaking heart that he could be anywhere but here.

And Aslan was far from finished. "You cared more about what others thought than about what _I_ thought," said the Lion gravely. "You rejected me, for the sake of the world. Because of your actions, many precious souls have had their faith shattered, and they were led to their destruction."

"I'm sorry, Aslan," Puzzle whispered, as a single tear of grief slid down his muzzle.

He knew those two pathetic words would never make up for a fraction of the tremendous ill he had brought about, but he felt compelled to utter them all the same.

"I know I have sinned against you. Never before has anyone ever done anything half as terrible as what I have done. I never truly meant for what had happened to go so far."

Aslan turned his head and merely looked at him, his timeless golden eyes staring into the core of Puzzle's very being, unearthing every one of the donkey's faults and shortcomings.

Another tear rolled down Puzzle's long nose as he went on mournfully, "I do not ask to be forgiven, Aslan. I know I am not worthy of your forgiveness. I am not worthy of even you."

With that, a third tear dropped to the ground by his hooves, followed by a fourth, and then a fifth. Finally, unable to take any more of this, the poor animal brayed out in sheer anguish, "Oh, please, Aslan, just get it over with! Don't stave it off any longer. Just punish me, and be done with it!"

"Punish you?" Aslan repeated, with a slight note of incredulity. "What good will come out of punishing you?"

"What else could you do with someone like me?" Puzzle wept, and now the tears were falling in one great, relentless shower. Had he possessed hands, he would have covered his face on the spot, and concealed himself. "What else is left for me? What reason is there for me to even be standing here? Please, Aslan, I beg you, don't put me through this. Please, please get on with it. Simply go on and do whatever you will with me." He closed his eyes again and braced himself, ready to accept whatever sentence Aslan would lay on him.

But Aslan did nothing, not at first.

"My son," the Lion said presently, again without a trace of anger, or venom, "I have no desire to punish you. It is not my intention to cast you out, or to destroy you."

Hearing this, Puzzle felt the faintest flame of hope flicker in his heart, which he guarded with quiet caution. The little donkey dared to open his eyes and lift his tearful face somewhat to Aslan's.

While he could see that Aslan was not condoning or disregarding what he had done, he could clearly make out mercy and love in the depths of the Lion's eyes.

"I forgive you, Puzzle," Aslan told him candidly. "I will have pity on you, and if you so desire, you will have place with me in my father's kingdom."

He leaned in toward the small, shaggy gray beast and continued, "But let this serve as a reminder to you, my son. Remember, from here on, that those who follow their own dark paths face destruction. Never place your own will above the will of my father, and never put your trust in those whose deeds are evil."

"You are right, my lord," Puzzle meekly acknowledged, his ears still laid back, "you are more than right. I shall forever bear in mind the lesson you have taught me."

He paused only a moment, before daring to ask, "Are…are my sins truly forgiven, Aslan? M-may I indeed join you?"

"Of course," said Aslan, and a genuine smile now illuminated his regal face. "If that is your wish, you are most welcome here, my son."

Puzzle's legs nearly gave out from under him at that. He felt quite ready to faint.

"Oh, my lord," he whispered thankfully, sinking to his front knees before Aslan in a somewhat awkward bow.

While his eyes continued to shed tears, this time they were but tears of sheer joy and gratitude. The little donkey wept as profusely as if he were a little child, yet he was not ashamed. "Oh, my lord," he wept a second time, still on his knees at Aslan's feet, "truly, you _are_ the Great Lion! How very great and glorious you are, you and your father—and how I love you!"

"And I, in turn, love you, my beloved Puzzle," Aslan replied, leaning down his mighty golden head and kissing the donkey's soft gray brow. "Welcome home."


	7. Part 7: Susan

**I AM A SINNER  
**

_Well, I'm excited and sad to admit it, but we are now to the very, very end of my story. I present to you the seventh and final chapter. (Interestingly, there are seven chapters in this, and seven volumes in the Narnia series. How about that?) Since I first began this, people have been asking and begging me, again and again, to make the last chapter about Susan. For those of you who made such a request, your wish has been granted! I intended to focus the last chapter on Susan anyway, even when I started out with just five chapters, so I'm one step ahead of you! _

_Out of all the seven chapters, out of all the seven stories, this one's got to be the most powerful. _

_Arm yourselves with plenty of tissues; if any of the previous chapters made you cry, this one is sure to bring on the waterworks! _

**

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Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Lyrics © Josh Groban**

_**All rights reserved.**_

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"_But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.' Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!"_

**~ Isaiah 49:14—15 (NIV)**

**

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Part 7: Susan**

This could not possibly be happening to her. Susan Pevensie longed to wake from this dreadful nightmare. She even pinched herself twice, hard both times, just to be sure she was awake.

But this was no dream.

Her whole family…her parents…her brothers…her sister…her cousin…even the old Professor…they were all gone. _Gone_. Just that word alone tasted bitter on her tongue, and she hated it.

How could this have happened, she couldn't stop asking herself? How was it that God could have allowed this horrible tragedy to come about?

From what Susan understood, there had been a dreadful railway accident that day—a passenger train, bound for Bristol, somehow derailed while approaching a station, going around a curve at excessive speed. Though Susan had not been present at the event, in her mind, she could picture the train coming off the tracks. She could almost hear the awful, sickening, ear-splitting screech and clang and crunch of metal, see the surprised and aghast looks of the people as the uncontrolled train headed straight for them.

There were quite a few fatalities…and Susan's loved ones were among the victims. As far as Susan knew, not one in her entire family had made it.

At first Susan adamantly refused to believe it when the police arrived at her front door and told her the news.

But when reality finally sank in, she became almost physically sick with grief.

Alone in her room, the night of the tragedy, Susan kept pacing from end to end, sobbing incessantly, wringing her hands like wet sponges, her lovely face ashen and void of makeup, her dark hair unkempt and disheveled, her eyes so red and so swollen from so much crying that she looked quite sickly. The house seemed eerily empty, ominously silent without her family. She wanted to scream. It just wasn't _fair! _Why did they all have to go, every last one of them? Now, she would never get to see them, speak to them, or hear their voices again, _ever_. No longer would she be able to touch them with her own hands, to embrace them, to come to them whenever she had a problem. She never even got to say goodbye.

In the days that followed, Susan could not eat or sleep. Though her friends, her current beau, and a remaining aunt and uncle all did their very best to care for her, to comfort her, Susan refused to be comforted. She thought there would be no end to her grief. For her, it was the end of a world of light and color, of beauty and happiness.

Everything in her life that had seemed so important at one time was now completely useless.

In addition to her grief and heartache, Susan also harbored potent feelings of anger at herself. The last time she had seen her siblings, just two days before the accident, she had behaved very badly toward them—especially to Lucy. Susan remembered, in lurid detail, how her brothers sat with her in her room and expressed how concerned they were about her.

Susan wasn't eating properly, she wasn't getting enough sleep, she kept coming home later and later every night, she was attending too many parties, going out with too many unsavory men…the list went on practically forever. Lately, it seemed to Peter and Edmund that all their sister cared about anymore was lipstick and nylons, attending as many parties and cotillions, and flirting with as many boys as possible. These days, they hardly knew Susan at all.

Deep down in her heart, Susan knew her brothers were right; she just wasn't ready to admit it, wasn't about to admit just how wrong a turn her life had taken over the years.

After listening to Peter for a few minutes, Susan finally lost patience and jumped up, shouting at him and Edmund that she was sick to death of their constant worrying and nagging, and thoroughly fed up with their so-called "talks". "I'm _fine!_" she'd yelled, while Edmund shrank back slightly, as if fearing she would slap him, and even Peter recoiled. "In case it hasn't occurred to either of you, I am no longer a child! I'm twenty-one years old; I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!"

Then Peter made the mistake of mentioning how the old Susan, the Gentle Queen of Narnia, would never have behaved like this.

How was it, Susan wondered incredulously, that her siblings still believed in this Narnia nonsense, after all this time? "For the last time, Peter," she said sharply, "would you give it a rest with Narnia? _Honestly_, I have just about had it with the way you all keep carrying on about it, how you all so pigheadedly believe in something that isn't even real!"

"But Narnia _is _real," a timid voice spoke from behind.

Susan turned around and saw Lucy standing forlornly by the door, which had conveniently been left wide open.

"You've been there yourself, Susan," Lucy protested. "Narnia is a beautiful, magical place, where everything is green and bright, where we met some of the most wonderful people we could have ever met. It's where we came to know Aslan. We were even once Kings and Queens over Narnia; surely, you remember that."

"Oh, grow up, Lucy!" Susan rebuked her sister. "It was all a mere child's game! It's high time you opened your eyes, and faced reality! Narnia doesn't exist! It never has, and it never will! Sure, it was a lovely enough game we played when we were younger, but that's all behind us, now! You simply must stop with this claptrap about Narnia and Aslan, whatever his name was, and get a_ life!_"

Lucy merely took one look at Susan before bursting into tears and running away, without once stopping or looking back.

Immediately Susan regretted having shouted at her. She began to call after her sister, but Lucy had already gone before she could even open her mouth.

"_Susan!_" Peter had said, when Lucy was out of sight and her heartbreaking sobs faded into silence. "How can you treat your sister that way? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Indeed, Susan was ashamed of herself—not for what she had said, but for the way she'd said it, for making Lucy cry.

By that time, Peter decided he'd had enough, that it just wasn't worth the argument, and he rose to leave the room.

Just before he stepped out the door, he shot one final cold look at Susan, and told her bluntly, "You may think you're so mature and grown-up, Miss Susan…but you still have a great deal to learn." With that, he turned his back on her and strode off without another word.

Susan watched him walk away, then she turned to Edmund, who had also risen to his feet.

Edmund said nothing at all, but just looked at Susan, and Susan could see incredible sadness, disappointment, and heartfelt pity in the depths of her brother's eyes.

After a minute of willful silence, Edmund quietly sauntered out after Peter, with his shoulders drooped and his head bowed to his chest.

Once they had all gone, Susan furiously slammed the door shut, bolting the lock for good measure, and then she'd thrown herself across her bed and cried for an hour.

That was the last she ever saw of her brothers and her sister…_ever._

She refused to join the family that night for supper, and came out of her room the next day only to attend her date with William, the young and extremely handsome if somewhat arrogant man who currently maintained possession of her heart.

On the morning of the railway catastrophe, Susan only spoke briefly with her parents before they left, anxious to get ready to meet with William again. William was intending to take her out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, where they served sparkling wine in pure crystal goblets and serenaded you with amorous music while you ate; then they would go dancing afterwards. Susan had been making sure her elegantly styled hair was perfect, smoothing out wrinkles in her sleek new gown that weren't even there, and putting on a final touch of lipstick when the fateful knock sounded on her front door. When William showed up later to take Susan away, the young man had been stunned to find Susan with the police in her living room. Susan said nothing to her beau when she saw him, only rushed up to him and threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance in the process.

When it was confirmed that Susan was the only one in her immediate family left, Susan pushed herself away from William, and fled to her room in a blinding agony of tears.

* * *

After the loss of her family, as hard as Susan tried, the girl could find no peace, no relief, no answers in a world that had suddenly been turned completely upside-down. Three straight weeks went by in which she didn't wear one dollop of makeup, and her gaudy dresses were stashed away in the very back of her closet.

Once, William invited her to go out for an evening with him, to help take her mind off things, and Susan lost it and went into a heated tirade about how she couldn't possibly think about going out and having a grand time when her whole family was gone forever.

At first, Susan blamed everyone and everything for the terrible disaster that seemed to shake the entire world.

She even thought for a time that her family's accident was somehow her fault; after all, she had been perfectly dreadful to them, and the next thing, they were gone.

One morning, unable to bear being in her house for one more minute, Susan was out alone in the garden, thinking to herself.

The thought of Aslan came to mind.

Despite her initial rebellion, her adamant refusal to believe in the Great Lion, Susan ultimately found herself saying out loud, "Oh, who am I trying to fool?"

Was she really that stupid? How could she not believe the truest thing in her life? How could she even pretend that Aslan, Narnia, and all the like were but a mere figment of the imagination? It was about as ridiculous as saying there was no sun or moon, or even standing right in front of the ocean and claiming there was no ocean.

Susan had never felt such guilt. She didn't believe it was possible to feel this horrible, yet she couldn't deny the pain that twisted her insides and numbed her soul.

In addition to the agony, her sense of utter shame, Susan came to realize that even though she had turned her back on Aslan, and all she had known to be true, she couldn't erase the memory of Aslan's love, of his interminable mercy. More than anything else in the world, Susan wanted that love and that mercy, that comfort and guidance that only Aslan could provide.

She _needed_ all that; without it, without Aslan, her life was meaningless.

But was it too late? Susan knew she couldn't turn back the clock and change what was already past.

She knew she could never change what she had done—but could she be forgiven for it?

Overwhelmed by emotion, Susan buried her face in her hands and quietly wept, and as she wept she kept whispering fervently to the flower-laced air enfolding her, "Aslan…oh, Aslan…Aslan…"

* * *

Not so very long afterwards—or it could well have been ages, or even an eternity afterwards—Susan found herself in the New Narnia, kneeling at the feet of none other than Aslan, the Great King himself, as real as anything. Racked with remorse and guilt for her past sins, for her doubts and her rebellion, Susan bowed herself at the omnipresent Lion's feet and wept over his paws, her tears soaking the luxurious fur in no time. Aslan stood in silence and allowed the Daughter of Eve to do this, making no objection to having his feet wet.

As always, Aslan was full of love and compassion for the girl, quick to hear her cries and willing to stay with her, even though Susan felt totally undeserving of him.

She could sob to him the way she used to cry on her mother's shoulder, knowing her mother could somehow make it all better.

"Oh, Aslan, I'm such a fool," Susan wept. "I lost my faith in you! I have denied you, I have sinned against you, in just about the worst way imaginable. But I do so wish to come back, if you'll have me. You have lost nothing without me, but I have lost everything without you! I'm so sorry; I am so very sorry, for everything! Forgive me, Aslan—oh, _forgive_ me!"

"Daughter," Aslan spoke up, his voice soft, his golden eyes emanating nothing but kindness, "be at peace. The past is gone, and you are here now. That is all that truly matters."

"Forgive me, Aslan."

"I forgive you, my child," Aslan never hesitated to say. He lowered his head and nuzzled her hair, and Susan could hear him purring gently. "I forgive you," Aslan crooned again, "and I love you. I have missed you, daughter. My heart has truly been sore without you. Now that you are here, now that you have been restored to me once more, my grief has turned into joy."

"I—I missed you, too, Aslan," Susan had to admit. "Even when I refused to believe in you, even at my darkest and lowest points in life, there was always some part of me that yearned for you."

"Love," Aslan told her, "true, pure love, is something that can weather even the longest and harshest of storms. Though it may be frail and flimsy, it can never be truly destroyed." When Susan lifted her face to him at some point, thoroughly wet and shining with the tears that had fallen, the Lion licked her tears and kissed her forehead, and said, "You are most welcome here, my beloved one. This is now your true home, just as it is mine. Think no more about what is already past. And rejoice, because your pain and your trials have ended."

Oh, yes, now Susan could indeed rejoice. Never had she experienced such joy, such sweetness, to which nothing could compare.

It was like standing before the Son of God, in all His glory.

There was so much Susan wanted to say to Aslan. Yet she could find no words with which to properly express what she was feeling, and all she could do was embrace Him and cover Him with kisses. When she later regained the strength in her legs and arose to walk, Aslan walked right beside her.

All of Susan's bad times, all of her pains and sorrows, now seemed nothing more than a bad dream.

And Narnia, the one true Narnia, was everything she could dream of, and more. Nothing withered or died, and everything was full of life and light.

Everything looked just like the Narnia Susan once knew, yet somehow more glorious and wonderful, by at least a hundredfold.

But what made this heaven truly heaven were the figures standing in the not so far distance. There, garbed in the most stunning finery, alive and strong and youthful and beautiful as they had ever been, were Lucy, Edmund, and Peter. Susan knew them instantly, and she couldn't repress a gasp at the sight of them.

They in turn saw her, and clearly recognized her also, for they became very still, their eyes wide with astonishment and wonder.

At first, all they could do was stand there on the spot and stare. No one could speak.

Then Lucy's face broke into a radiant smile, even as tears flooded her lovely brown eyes and spilled freely down her cheeks, and she was the first to dart forward. Susan didn't hesitate to run to her also. In no time the two sisters were caught up in each other's arms. Lucy's body felt warm and undoubtedly solid, and all Susan could do was hug her and cry hysterically. Lucy was weeping every bit as hysterically, her tears gushing out of her as if through a faucet. Peter and Edmund soon joined them, their eyes and faces wet long before joining with their sisters. Susan clung fiercely to them too, one after the other. Not one thing had to be said; words were completely unnecessary. Susan knew she was forgiven, and that her siblings, whom she'd never thought to see again, were just happy to have her back, that they were all together again as a family, never to be separated.

To further add on to Susan's joy, if such a thing were even possible, she looked up at length to see her whole Narnian family coming for her.

Aside from Eustace, Jill Pole, the dear old Professor, and even her own mother and father, she saw Tumnus, the faun who was Lucy's husband and eternal companion, accompanied by his two precious children, Puck and Selena; she also saw the centaurs Oreius and Glenstorm, the Beavers, the human kings Caspian and Tirian, Trumpkin the dwarf, Trufflehunter the badger, Reepicheep the mouse, Jewel the unicorn, and even Puzzle the donkey—along with all the others who had been saved through the redeeming grace of Aslan.

Everyone appeared genuinely glad to see Susan. They all took turns greeting her when they reached her: holding her in their arms, rocking her, nuzzling her, bathing her face with tears and endless kisses, and saying a thousand endearing things to her. Susan did likewise with each and every one of them, her heart brimming over with sheer love for them all.

Every time someone told her "welcome home", Susan knew it beyond a grain of doubt to be true. She _was_ home.

This was where she belonged, and she would not belong anywhere else.

_

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When I am down  
__And oh, my soul so weary  
When troubles come  
And my heart burdened be  
_

_Then I am still and wait here  
In the silence  
Until you come  
And sit a while with me_

_You raise me up  
So I can stand on mountains  
You raise me up  
To walk on stormy seas  
I am strong when I am on your shoulders  
You raise me up  
To more than I can be_

_You raise me up  
So I can stand on mountains  
You raise me up  
To walk on stormy seas  
I am strong when I am on your shoulders  
You raise me up  
To more than I can be_

_You raise me up  
So I can stand on mountains (stand on mountains)  
You raise me up  
To walk on stormy seas (stormy seas)  
I am strong when I am on your shoulders  
You raise me up  
To more than I can be_

_You raise me up  
So I can stand on mountains (stand on mountains)  
You raise me up  
To walk on stormy seas (stormy seas)  
I am strong when I am on your shoulders  
You raise me up  
To more than I can be_

_You raise me up  
To more than I can be_

"_**You Raise Me Up" ~ as sung by Josh Groban**_


End file.
